


Demons, Demigods and Hunters: Return from Hell

by eatyourhartout



Series: Demigods and Hunters [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angels, Camp Half-Blood (Percy Jackson), Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Daughter of Athena, F/M, Hell, Hunters & Hunting, Implied/Referenced Torture, Light Angst, Tartarus, season 5
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2019-09-07 03:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 18,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16846249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eatyourhartout/pseuds/eatyourhartout
Summary: Lucifer has arisen and the Winchesters are desperately trying to avert The Apocalypse. While working on a way to kill the devil, an old friend has been returned to them.Anna has spent the last thousand years in hell. Literally. Suddenly she'd back and she doesn't know what's real and what isn't. Thrown straight back into the fight between good and evil, she is drowning.What is a half crazy demigod to do when confronted with an Apocalypse not her own?Interfere of courseSequel to Demons, Hunters and Demigods





	1. Chapter 1

_Prologue_

She sat huddled in the chair, long hair sitting lank across her face, concealing a blank expression and empty eyes. He flips through a file in his hand, repressing a sigh as he scans over the familiar documents inside.

Approximately twenty six years old, found unconscious on the side of the road, covered in blood and dirt and injuries synonymous with months, if not years, of systematic imprisonment and torture. Jane Doe. Cold case.

The police believed that whoever it was that had attacked her had kept her for a long time, before burying her alive. Her story makes every single staffer in the hospital all the more sympathetic to the silent patient.

When she had first arrived, it had been like dealing with a rabid animal, feral and afraid. He believed that with whatever happened to her, she hadn't had any kind of positive human interaction in a long long time. No interaction with another human being that didn't result in pain or fear. But in the past few months, an abrupt change had occurred in her condition.

She went from feral, to empty in the course of a few days. She hardly responded to outside stimuli, and continued her pattern of complete muteness. But now, instead of light growls or snarls, she just sits in an eerie silence that unsettles the other patients. Jane Doe mostly just drifts through the day, completely ignoring anyone around her.

At night, however, he is forced to lock her away in a padded room, strapped tightly to her bed, so that as she lashes out in terror, she can't hurt herself or others, as one of the nurses found out the hard way during her first night. She broke three ribs and shattered the poor man's elbow before they were able to wake her. And even then, she was like a cornered animal, rabid and afraid. It had taken several orderlies and a heavy dose of tranquilizers to calm her down. They aren't equipped to deal with violent patients; but Jane Doe isn't violent. Not really. So they drug her heavily at night, and lock her away while they exchange sympathetic glances as she cried and screamed and thrashed in her sleep. Then watch her carefully during the day as she simply… _exists_.

Dr. Fuller closed the file gently, finally looking up at his favorite patient. Challenging, dangerous and broken; still at her core, there was something he could see as innately good. The only time she hurt people was if she or someone else was in any perceived danger. Or if she was having a nightmare.

"The nurses tell me that you're not taking your medication. You wanna tell me why?" He asked her gently. Not really expecting a reply, but the interaction would be good for her. Hopefully someday he would reach the small part of her brain the person she used to be was hiding inside of.

"Jane?" The doctor asked her again gently. She ignored him. Just like always. He wished that he knew her real name. But she won't talk, and the police found no ID on her. No matches to any missing persons database, nothing on her fingerprints or her DNA. So Jane she remained. He took another glance at his notes from other patients.

"Is this about the monster the others are seeing? About Annie?" Nothing. He stood up and moved around his desk slowly, both hands out in front of him to show her he wasn't going to hurt her. That was important. If Jane thought she was in danger, she would lash out. And he didn't want to be forced to send her away to a different facility. Dr. Fuller crouched down in front of her, his dark eyes meeting her sharp grey irises.

Internally he smiled. Some progress at least. Usually, she won't meet anyone's gaze, her eyes darting all over, always on guard for some perceived threat. Outwardly, he sighed, gently smoothing back several strands of dark hair from her face.

"I know Annie was a friend of yours, and what happened to her was painful for all of us. But just because others see a monster to help make her passing easier, doesn't mean you should believe them. You need that medicine Jane. It will help you." Her gaze was eerie. An icy stormy grey, her eyes held his own gaze steadily, the once vacant expression gaining a spark of something. He wasn't sure what it was. And even as he felt a flicker of triumph with the progress he'd made, he had a tremulous feeling he didn't want to know what that something was.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnnnd we're back! Updates will be slow, but the adventure now continues nearly three years after Anna's fall into Hell. This story begins during the Supernatural episode Sam Interrupted (S:5 E:11)


	2. Chapter 2

_Dean_

He leaned against the couch, waiting for Sam. No matter how cute the nurse was; that exam was... violating. Dean wasn't actually crazy, at least no more insane than any other hunter was. He thought for a moment about all the crap they'd gone through.

 _'Well, ok. Maybe a little crazy. But definitely not loony bin worthy.'_  He sighed in relief and pushed off the couch to greet Sam, who also looked mildly disturbed as he walked down the hall.

"How was your Silkwood shower?" He asked. Sam nodded awkwardly, and Dean followed suit. The whole place was giving him the heebie jeebies. He could practically smell the crazy.

"Okay. Yeah, good. Yeah, good, umm... good water pressure. Did the nurse... " Sam asked uncomfortably. Dean nodded quickly, trying to avoid the topic.

"She was very thorough." He said shortly. Sam nodded, fidgeting nervously. 

"Yeah. Yeah, good. Good. Yeah." He trailed off. Dean ignored his stammering brother as he assessed the room. The people inside were all so quiet, it was weird. One woman was just flipping a single page back and forth over and over again, and another was having some kind of staring contest with a pink bunny rabbit. Dean fought the urge to flee, thinking back to the time he'd yelled at Sam that they were insane for hunting a ghost. 

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this." He groaned quietly. Sam just shrugged.

"Hey, it's the least we could do. Martin saved Dad's ass more times than we can count. He's a great hunter." Dean frowned before correcting his brother.

"Was. Until Albuquerque." He shuddered as he remembered the scattered details about that particular hunt. He wasn't even there, but the stories he'd heard... those were more than enough. His brother shrugged again.

"Besides, I just figure it's best we keep busy. That's all." A weird feeling crawled down his neck at Sam's tone of voice. He knew that one. His voice lowered to a dangerous growl. Or at least, dangerous if you weren't Sammy.

"Better than what?"

"Nothing." His kid brother replied quickly, trying to cover. Dean refused to take that as an answer, gesturing for him to continue. They stared each other down for a moment before Sam relented.

"Okay. Look...um...last few weeks, you've kind of been worrying me." Dean thought his eyes might fall out based on how hard he rolled them.

_'Not this crap again.'_

"Oh, come on, Sam. Stop. Look, just because we're in the loony bin doesn't give you the right to head-shrink me." He snapped harshly. 

"Dean..." Sam said softly, pleading. He quickly cut his brother off.

"Ellen and Jo dying, yeah, it was a friggin' tragedy, okay? But I'm not gonna wallow in it." And he wouldn't. Hunting is dangerous, and hunting around him and Sam, even more so. People died. Dean forced himself to push away the memory of clear grey eyes, dark whiskey, the smell of the wind and the low rumble of a motorcycle as he looked at Sam's worried expression.

"Dean, you always do this. You can't just keep this crap in." His expression hardened. He knew where this conversation was leading.  _Her_. It always did.

"Watch me." He snapped. He glanced around the room and spotted the sallow older man in the corner of the room, staring almost vacantly out the window. A drawing pad and crayons were sitting on the table in front of him.

"Oh, there he is." Ignoring the hurt look on Sam's face he started to walk towards the other hunter. When they reached the older ex-hunter, they exchanged a few stilted greetings before getting down to business.

As Martin talked, Dean's disbelief grew. While he could acknowledge that the five deaths was kinda freaky, nothing else about the information they were getting seemed helpful. And according to Martin, the only patient who got more than a quick glimpse was a traumatized woman who had been in the hospital for eight months, and has never spoken a word. Sure, some screaming at night, a few orderlies with broken bones but besides for that, Jane Doe was a  _very_  nice crazy person. He nearly snorted as he glanced around the room again, spotting a woman humming and dancing alone.

"Gee, why wouldn't they be?" He muttered. No, no one here was going to be a reliable witness. Sam reassured Martin that they were on the case, but as they talked Dean's doubts kept growing. There was a case, but Martin clearly had a few screws loose. He was almost relieved that Doc Fuller came and interrupted them. But even then, he was singled out.

 

 _'Codependency? I don't depend on Sam! If anything,_ Sam _depends on_ me _...'_


	3. Chapter 3

_Dean_

"When was the last time you were in a long term relationship?" Dean froze. He felt a little cold, as though there really was a ghost like he'd been teasing the good doctor about. A very real one that always hovered around his shoulder. He could practically feel the ghostly specter run a cool hand down his cheek, hear the ruffle of journal pages, see the glint of four mystery metals in fire light, as the phantom of a monster flitted around the edges of a protective barrier. 

"Define relationship." He asked, suddenly subdued.

"Romantic. Longer than two months." She added efficiently. Dean glanced down at his hands. Technically, nothing happened. But, he'd certainly  _felt_  something. And according to Sam,  _she_  had too. Only he'd been too blind to notice. And now it was too late. Clear grey eyes glared at him accusingly in his mind's eye. 

His pause had gone on too long. An immaculately groomed eyebrow arched into the air.

"Eddie?" Dean glanced up again.

"Never." He rebounded quickly, hitting Dr. Cartwright with his next question. But he couldn't quite ignore the sound of a familiar laugh ringing in his ears, or stop himself from noticing a rainbow glinting in the corner of his eye. 


	4. Chapter 4

_Sam_

As he sat down for group, he glanced around the room casually. A circle of about eight other patients sat in plain plastic chairs, a mix of young and old, but they all looked nervous. Especially the girl immediately to the right of Dr. Fuller. Her knees were drawn into her, curling into a defensive ball. Dark hair tumbled over her shoulders and onto her knees, obscuring her face. Martin leaned over, nodding in the girl's direction.

"That's Jane." Sam nodded back subtly. He shifted in his seat, observing the strange Jane Doe, who didn't speak and was possibly their only lead on the monster they were hunting. Maybe even the monster herself. He couldn't eliminate any possibilities yet.

Suddenly the girl looked up and Sam felt the world fall out from beneath him.

Horribly familiar grey eyes stared at him; empty and distant. The eyes of a dead woman.

Jane Doe was Anna Colt.


	5. Chapter 5

_Sam_

He spots Dean on his way into his own group session. Sam knows he  _has_  to tell Dean about who Jane Doe really is. According to Martin, Anna sits in on  _all_  the group sessions, mostly because it ensures she has some kind of regular interaction with people besides doctors. Otherwise she would sit in a chair in the rec room or on her bed and do nothing.

Sam knows that he  _cannot_  let Dean just walk into that surprise. Sam still remembered what Dean was like after she had died, or rather, when they'd  _thought_  she'd died.

For two days after Wyoming, Dean did nothing but drink and break furniture. The only time he reigned it in was when Nico, Annabeth or Percy were around. He was angry and destructive and the nothingness of no cases those first few days was making everything worse. Then on the third day, it was like everything had shut off. Like she'd never existed in the first place. The only sign since then was that they never spoke her name, and Dean always carried the stupid burner phone she'd always told him to get rid of. And that once every couple of months he made sure to stop by New York to check on Nico and take him someplace fun. Sam had continued that for Dean while he'd been in Hell.

_'If Cas pulled Dean out of Hell, who pulled Anna out? And more importantly, why?'_  Sam wondered. Even though he had no idea how he was going to break the news, he knew he needed to tell Dean before he found out on his own. Walking up behind his brother he calls out in a harsh whisper.

"Dean, hey." His brother turned around. Sam opened his mouth, then closed it frowning. Dean's hands were stuffed in his pockets, toes scuffing the floor. His whole expression was fairly reminiscent of a kicked puppy. Sam felt the first stirrings of panic in his chest. Dean doesn't do kicked puppy. Dean was the stoic, nothing bothers me, no chick flick moments type.

"You okay?" He asked instead. Dean's face furrows, irritation etched across his expression.

"I just got thraped. So no, I am not okay. Tell me you found something." Dean demanded. Sam's stomach churned, and he fidgeted slightly. He  _had_  to tell Dean.

"Yeah, actually I found a few things. This one guy said he saw it, we should talk to him." He hesitated as Dean nodded, already turning away.

"Also Dean. Jane Doe, the mute girl Martin told us about? I saw her, in group. Apparently she sits in on all the group sessions." Dean shrugged.

"Ok, what about her? Think we can get her to talk or is she just kooky dukes?" Sam sighed, shifting his weight. Dean's brow furrowed as he examined Sam's anxious expression.

"Sammy..." He said quietly. Sam took a deep breath.

"Dean, Jane Doe. I'm pretty sure... I'm pretty sure she's Anna. Actually, I'm certain of it. It's not some monster wearing her face. She's human. I checked." His brother froze. Sam stood awkwardly, as anxiety flooded his body. By some unspoken agreement, they never talked about her. Not to each other at least. Sam did to Bobby, at least he did more right after she'd jumped through the gate in Wyoming. But as the months passed, they brought her up less and less as the pain of losing her lessened. He doubts Dean has spoken her name out loud since the day she died. Sam is certain that losing Anna poisoned him against relationships, and cemented his type of hook up.

Since Wyoming Dean hasn't touched a woman who looked like her. Sure he flirted with them, but the women Dean fell into bed with never had dark hair or grey eyes. They never moved with the grace of someone who understood exactly how their body worked, and they never had that innate steel core that was evident on Anna even before he'd known she was a hunter. Sam suspected Dean still harbored some feelings for Anna. His older brother had always been a player, but after Anna, it always seemed like he held everyone at an even farther distance than he had before.

They stood there in silence for another minute before Dean moved.

"How?" He muttered lowly, his eyes hard and cold. Sam shrugged.

"All I know is she is sitting in that room, but I don't think anyone is home. At least not in any recognizable way." Sam sighed, glancing down the hall.

"Martin said when she arrived eight months ago she was practically feral, snarling and skittish, more animal than human. But a few months ago, right after the suicides began she just... she went... blank." Sam wasn't sure how else to describe what she was like now. Dean nodded shortly, pain clouding his features. Sam sighed.

"Look, we still gotta talk to the guy who we know saw it, and is willing and able to  _actually_  communicate with us. We'll deal with Anna later. Meet here in an hour?" Dean nodded shortly, turning to leave.

"Sooner we take care of this thing, sooner we can leave." Sam nodded. He doubted that was how it was actually going to work. They couldn't leave Anna here, no matter how crazy she might be. She was one of theirs, and Sam wasn't going to let her down. And neither would Dean.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: The following scene is Dean in hell. There is some torture involved. If you don't want to read the torture scene skip to the notes at the end of this chapter for a recap; this scene is an important part of the plot and will affect Dean's relationships with the world around him.

_Flashback_

_He slumped down, his head hanging low. His voice was too tired to scream, the pain too overwhelming and yet he could never escape it. Never fade away or pass out or die. It was this, forever. Alistair paced around him, smirking as he ran the damned razor across his soul. Slicing, cutting, peeling._

_Today's flavor of the day was getting flayed. His soul peeled away in long, even, strips. He could feel the phantom sensation of blood; hot as it ran across him in imaginary rivers. The hooks that tore into his hands and feet tugged oddly, the chains rattling painfully every time he twitched. Suddenly Alistair dug the razor in deeper and Dean found within himself the strength to scream again. Pain. Blind hot white pain bloomed across his soul as he screamed. Alistair just laughed, whispering into his ear; pulling from his soul all the horrors that he was afraid of. All the nightmares he'd fought at a man, real and imagined. His mother's death. His father's death. Sammy, laying in his arms bloody and still and dead. Anna vanishing behind the crumbling walls of the devil's gate. And on and on and on and on._

_Somewhere behind him he heard screams. Which wasn't all the different from the usual, except these screams seemed shorter. More abrupt. Filled with fear rather than pain. Alistair froze, the blade of the razor digging deeply into Dean's body. A horrible smirk spread across his face._

_"Ah. The half blooded bitch strikes again. But today, mmm. Her blood smells just, so, lovely." Alistair examines Dean carefully. A wide smile grew on his face. Apprehension filled Dean, sending adrenaline to rush through his phantom body. He knew it was just his soul, but it_ felt _like a body, with blood and skin and bones to hurt. Alistair spoke in his customary soft tone, the pleasant mannerisms a stark contrast to the vicious bastard he actually was._

_"Yes, hmm. What to do..." He smirked at Dean._

_"I think I must go now. Don't go anywhere Dean. I have someone else to see." Pulling the blade out from under his skin, the demon left abruptly. He wasn't sure if he should be relieved that the pain had ended, or terrified of what fresh torment the delay would bring him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recap: Dean is being tortured in hell by Alistair when a commotion breaks out in another area of hell. Alistair makes references to a halfblood (guess who) striking again and how her blood smells good. He leaves Dean to go deal with the problem.


	7. Chapter 7

_Dean_

He felt like he was walking around in a fugue state. Even though Sam had warned him, walking into group and seeing Anna's curled up figure in her chair still felt like a punch to the gut. What made the whole fucked up situation even worse, was when group ended, he saw her shuffle gracelessly out of the room to the gentle prompting of Dr. Fuller. Lifeless and dull.

It was like something had just sucked all the personality out of her. Her previously innate grace was buried away, nearly gone. Her once sharp eyes were dull, and her long dark hair was lank and uncared for. Not that Anna had ever been vain, but she'd still been  _a girl_. Washed and styled her hair, wore flattering clothing and had occasionally enjoyed dressing up. The shell Dean saw in group was almost nothing like her. It tore at him inside; ripping open the lockbox he had built for himself to contain all the  _things_  he'd felt for her.

He'd promised to live in the sun for her. And he'd tried, really tried. But then he'd gone to Hell, and then the seals were breaking and then the mess with Ruby and Lucifer rising and suddenly it was like no matter how hard he'd tried, the darkness was crushing him. But he'd always had the memory of her to pull him along. And now... even that was gone.

But Dean was certain of one thing. If that wraith went after Anna, he had no doubt that his old friend would lose. So he stood on guard, watching the security mirror, checking everyone who passed by for a monstrous visage. So far, nothing.

As he continues to vigilantly inspect people through the mirror, he hears the distinctive  _click click_  of his shrink's shoes.

"What's up, Doc?" He asked flippantly, as he continued to examine everybody who passed by him in the mirror. She leans against the wall next to him, mirroring his own alert position.

"You tell me." Dean fights the urge to smirk at the irony of being able to tell the absolute truth about what he does. He gives in as he snorts a little.

"Hunting. A wraith, actually. Could be anybody." He shrugged, glancing at the Doc, even as he kept one eye on the mirror.

"So, I could be a monster?" She asked him. Dean glances into the mirror and sees nothing different. Same human face. He shakes his head before going back to check everyone else.

"No, you're clean." He reassures her. He checks a passing patient in the mirror. Also clean.

"Why you?" She asked suddenly. He frowns, mildly confused.

"Why me, what?" Dr. Cartwright shrugged, even as she watches the mirror with him. Dean kept his eyes on the mirror even as he listen to her respond.

"Why do  _you_  have to hunt monsters? Why not let someone else do it?" He freezes for a moment. Dean has no plans on discussing yellow eyes or any of the crazy from the past few years. He falls back onto old habits, and deflects.

"Can't find anybody else that dumb." He said with a laugh. He paused for a moment. In the hospital, this is as close to sharing and caring he can do for the job. He shrugs to himself.

_'In for a penny, in for a pound.'_  Dean sighed before continuing.

"It's my job. Somebody's gotta save people's asses, yours included." He admitted.

"So, is there a quota? How many people do you have to save?" Dean pushed down the irritation that came with the question. Of course there isn't a quota. He could never put a price on human life. Helping people is just what he does, he's not fulfilling some demented checklist.

"All of them." He replied with certainty. And he would. Every single person he could. Disbelief colored Dr. Cartwright's face as she repeated his words.

"All of them? You think you have to save everyone?"

"Yep. Whole wide world of sports." He nodded, ignoring the strange expression on her face.

"How?" The one word packed a punch. It was a question he asked himself every single day.  _How._  She gave him a hard look.

"Believe me, whatever you've got, I've heard weirder." She prompted him. He sighed.

"It's the end of the world, okay? I mean, it's the damn Biblical apocalypse, and if I don't stop it and save everyone, then no one will, and we all die." He looked over at the doc seriously. She had a sympathetic expression on her face.

"That's horrible."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Dean shrugged nonchalantly. In a weird way, it was nice to be crazy, to talk to a relatively non judgmental stranger, about his problems. It was freeing, in a bizarre kind of way.

"I mean, apocalypse or no apocalypse...monsters or no monsters, that's a crushing weight to have on your shoulders. To feel like six billion lives depend on you...God...how do you get up in the morning?" Dean finally looked away from the mirror, focusing on the quiet woman with icy grey eyes staring silently out a window.

"I made a girl a promise."


	8. Chapter 8

_Dean_

Even as Dr. Cartwright tried to ask him more about Anna, or rather the promise he had made to her after she'd fallen into Hell, he ignored her. His eyes were drawn to her sullen form, sitting rigidly by the window.

He knew time ran differently  _downstairs_ , and he didn't know how long she was there. But it was at least a year, likely longer. That was centuries of torment. Of running and hiding and fighting. To be ripped away from that and returned to the land of the living, even if it was preferable to the torment of Hell, the adjustment was still... uncomfortable. Dean still struggled with his own miracle. He remembered the first time he had met Cas, just a few days after his return from Hell.

_The warehouse was empty and quiet. He glanced up at Bobby, and finally voiced the question that had been on his mind for the past several minutes._

_"You sure you did the ritual right?" He asked. The older hunter just shot him an unimpressed look. Dean sighed._

_"Sorry. Touchy touchy, huh?" He muttered. Suddenly the walls began to rattle, and the lights around them flickered. He and Bobby both reach for their shotguns, turning around to face the doors, even as the roof shook and shuddered._

_"Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind," Dean said quietly. He didn't see Bobby's reaction because at that moment, the doors burst in. A man in a trench coat, and a business suit walked in. As the stranger stalked through the warehouse, the light bulbs began to shatter, glass spraying everywhere. Dean and Bobby opened fire, but nothing happened. Not even a scratch. The only thing damaged was the odd trench coat the stranger wore._

_Dean slowly reached for the demon killing knife, holding it defensively in front of him._

_"Who are you?" He demanded. The man had a strange expression on his face, a mix of earnest and curious and maybe even a little bit innocent. He looked at Dean for a moment before responding in a gravelly voice._

_"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." Dean snorted with derision. He ignored the little voice inside that was reminding him that he'd gotten free a week early._

_"No. They let me go. That was the deal; one month for every day he was gone. But thanks." The man looked surprised. Dean took the opening and plunged the knife into the man's chest. He looked down, unconcerned, and pulled it out before dropping it onto the floor. Dean's eyes widened with shock. Bobby attacked the man, diving forward. The man didn't even look as he snatched the iron crowbar out of Bobby's hand before touching his forehead with two fingers. Bobby crumpled to the floor, unconscious. The man glanced over to Dean, his face the same passive and bland expression he had been wearing when he walked into the warehouse._

_"We need to talk, Dean. Alone." He ignored the man and dropped to the floor, pressing two fingers under Bobby's chin. He felt a steady flutter against his fingertips, Bobby's pulse strong and steady. The man frowned as he watched him._

_"Your friend's alive." Dean just scowled harder._

_"Who are you?" He demanded. He could practically feel_ her _presence behind him, a feeling only cemented by the fact that he'd seen her while he'd been in Hell. She'd tried to help him, rescue him multiple times, but he'd sold his soul; he belonged to the Pit, no matter what she had done. She didn't, not till after his sentence was up at least; but stayed with him anyways. He only wished that when he'd woken up in his own coffin, he could have brought her back with him too._

_"Castiel." Was the monosyllabic response. Dean felt a growl rising in his chest._

_"Yeah, I figured that much, I mean_ what _are you?" Castiel, and wasn't_ that _a mouthful, looked at him blankly._

 _"I'm an Angel of the Lord." Dean felt the disbelief coursing through his system. If such things existed, then why was An-_ she _gone, or why did his mom die at the hands of a demon, or his dad? If angels were real, why didn't_ they _deal with Hell and it's denizens? No they were a myth. They had to be._

_"Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing." He growled at Castiel, rising to his feet slowly. Dean hovered slightly in front of Bobby's prone body, protective of the only father figure he had left. Maybe the only one he'd ever properly had._

_"This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith." He held Dean's gaze just that moment too long, his voice taking on a strange cadence. Lightning flashed again, and thunder rumbled. In the flashing light, Dean could see a pair a huge wings silhouetted against the wall, sprouting out of Castiel's back. They flexed slowly, powerfully. He felt a slight panic fill him. Angels weren't real, they couldn't be. And yet, the proof of it stood before him. Dean snorted._

_"Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman's eyes." He taunted, voice cool. The angel, because he couldn't deny that's what he was, looked slightly guilty at his words, glancing to the ground in acknowledgment._

_"I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be... Overwhelming to humans, and so can my real voice. But you already knew that." Dean felt a sudden realization rush through him, as he remembered shattering glass and the unbearable noise from the gas station and motel._

_"You mean at the motel? That was you talking?" Castiel nodded. Dean glared._

_"Buddy, next time, lower the volume." He snarled._

_"That was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong."_

_"And what visage are you in now, huh? What, holy tax accountant?" Dean asked derisively. Castiel glanced down at his ruined trench coat._

_"This? This is... A vessel." Dean felt his already unstable temper slip even further._

_"You're possessing some poor bastard?" He growled out. Possession was Evil. Capital E, and utterly wrong. To steal someone's body, drive it around like a car, it was just wrong. Utterly utterly wrong. If one could shrug with a facial expression, that's what the angel did. It served only to piss Dean off even more._

_"He's a devout man, he actually prayed for this." He said matter of factly. Dean scoffed, glaring._

_"Well, I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you really?"_

_"I told you." The angel looked confused, bright blue eyes boring into Dean's. The hunter snorted._

_"Right. And why would an angel rescue me from Hell?" He asked, disdain dripping from every word. He had no doubt that there were others more deserving of the angel rescue squad, especially since he already had a get out of jail free card. He could think of at least one._

_"Good things do happen, Dean." Castiel stepped closer to him, as though the gravity of his presence could force Dean to have faith. He shook his head, suppressing memories of blood, pain, fire and the screams of the tormented. Memories of_ her _in that place, when she deserved it least of all._

_"Exactly one good thing has ever just happened to me, and she's rotting in Hell. So no, they don't, not in my experience." Dean retorted. Castiel tilted his head, examining Dean's face._

_"What's the matter? You don't think you deserve to be saved?" The angel asked softly. Dean tried to ignore the strong feelings that question invoked. Lock away the knowledge that he left someone important behind in the hellfire._

_"Why me?" He asked instead. Why not her, he asked silently. The next words made him cold._

_"Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you."_

And work there was. Two years of it. Two years where Dean wrestled with the idea that the douchebags with wings chose him instead of her. That he had been rescued after forty years, and left her behind for untold centuries. The guilt hung heavy around his neck, and some days the only way Dean was able to function was by drowning out his emotions with strong alcohol.

But now she was back. And he had no idea how, or why. And a huge part of him didn't care. She was free, and relatively safe. Anna could heal, and maybe one day return to society as a functional member. It was all he wanted for her. An apple pie life, free of monsters and demons and his family's baggage. A smaller part of him wanted her back, for her to rejoin him and Sam on the road; him in Baby, and her on that bike of hers. Or even better with her riding around in the backseat of the Impala. An even quieter part of him wished to share a white picket fenced yard and the matching house with her, while Sammy lived down the street.

However he couldn't quite repress the part of him that was the cold hunter; how did she escape? And what does that mean for the impending end of the world?

He sighed, and turned his full attention back to the mirror in time to glimpse Dr. Fuller as he headed towards Anna. He did a double take.

A gray, decaying face stared out at him from the mirror's reflection. Dean's eyes widened, and a chill ran down his spine. Dr. Fuller is the wraith.

And Anna is his favorite patient.


	9. Chapter 9

_Sam_

He peered around the corner and quickly ducks back as he spots Dr. Fuller. He was looking down at a clipboard; Anna's patient chart. He wondered why Anna was isolated; all alone in the west wing of the hospital.

The he realized that it must be arranged like this to make feeding on her easier. Rage filled him as Sam took a deep breath, gripping the silver plated knife in his hand tightly. He only just found her alive again, broken and insane, but alive. He would not lose her, would not fail her. Not like he'd failed Jess, or Jo or Ellen or his dad or even Dean. He wouldn't fail her. Not this time.

He lunged around the corner, the knife slicing down into the doctor's arm. With a yell, Dr. Fuller reeled back, and orderlies rushed to restrain him. Sam swung his fists, throwing one orderly into a wall, and the other through a window. He lunged forwards, snatching up the dropped knife.

He raced down the hall, following the sound of pounding footsteps, single mindedly focused on killing the wraith. Sam caught up quickly, and tackled the doctor to the ground. He raised the knife into the air, intent on stabbing it straight down into the tweed covered chest when a cold hand catches his wrist.

Sam glanced back in surprise to see Anna holding his arm, her thumb digging into his pulse point on his wrist. Pain began to shoot up his arm as he wrestled with her, trying to get the knife away. Cold silver eyes flashed in the dim hospital light.

"Anna, please I gotta do this." Sam muttered, but she shouldered him off the doctor. Picking up the knife she drops into a defensive crouch, but as Sam rises up again she lunged at him. With fast, violent movements she struck, hitting him across his chest and arms with small fast punches before dropping down to sweep his legs out from under him. Stumbling, Sam backed up quickly, working hard to defend himself. He couldn't do much more than try to protect his face and vital organs, as her hits came hard and fast, winding him.

Sam had only ever seen Anna fight full out once, and that was the night in the cemetery in Wyoming nearly three years ago. But even before then, Sam had known that Anna was a better fighter than him, better than Dean and probably even better than their dad. But this, this was something else. It was like all the intention she'd once carried in every motion had been stolen from her; leaving nothing but speed and power and raw skill. The fluidity of her current movements betrayed the numb stumble she'd walked with earlier in the day. Like she was a different person entirely in that moment. The hunter she used to be was back in the harsh predatory glare and in the skilled movement of her body. He knew without a doubt, that if she really wanted too, Anna could have killed him by now.

Ducking and dodging her hard blows Sam felt his back hit the wall, and the flurry of movement suddenly stopped. The knife was dug deeply under his chin, and she was leaning up high; blank silver eyes boring into his. Suddenly she stepped away, the knife clattering to the floor uselessly as she wandered aimlessly away. As though nothing had happened. He was so stunned that he stayed still long enough for the orderlies to tackle him to the ground.

Suddenly, Sam remembered what he was supposed to be doing and started to struggle for the knife again. But when he glanced up at Dr. Fuller, he realized something. His skin was completely normal, the cut wasn't burning at all. Dean was wrong. Dr. Fuller wasn't the wraith.

Sam went limp as he realized what he'd nearly done. What he'd been  _willing_  to do. 


	10. Chapter 10

_Dean_

Dean stalked down the hall as he mulled over what Sam said. He shook his head.

"I'm not crazy." He muttered to himself. Sure he was a bit screwed in the head after hell, and the whole deal with Lucifer was making him  _feel_  crazy, but Dean wasn't actually crazy. Although, his comment about Anna's possible lucidity, or return to it, niggled in the back of his mind. But the idea, that she had such control, even while out of her mind, worried Dean. Worried him for what it meant.

"You missed our session today." Dr. Cartwright's calm voice drifted from behind him as the brunette doctor joined him as he walked through the hospital. Dean wasn't in the mood to deal with the nosey shrink.

"A little busy." Dean snapped at her.

"Still hunting that wraith?" She asked him, completely unperturbed by his hostile tone.

"People are dying." He retorted impatiently, speeding up slightly as he tried to lose her. Instead the doctor speed up to match his pace, continuing to speak in her reasonable, calm voice that was beginning to get on Dean's nerves.

"People die all the time." She replied smoothly. Dean frowned at the callous indifference to innocent death. Just because death was common didn't make it any less tragic.

"Look, lady, why don't you just let me do my job, maybe save your life." He growled back at her.

"It's not my life that I'm worried about." Dean turned around, facing her fully, irritation rushing through him.

"Oh, my G--I am fine, okay? I'm fine." He insisted. An orderly down the hall glances over at them, but Dean ignored him as he fully focused his attention on the doctor in front of him.

"Come on, even you don't believe that. All this pressure that you're putting yourself under, all this guilt; it's killing you. You can't save everybody. You can't. Hell, these days, you can't save anybody, Dean." Her voice had gone hard and cold. Dean's blood chilled as she turned to walk away.

"What did you say?" He asked in a low dangerous voice. Dr. Cartwright turned back round to face him, dark eyes glinting with malice.

"The truth, Dean. You got Ellen and Jo killed. You shot Lucifer, but you couldn't gank him." She taunted him softly. Dean began to back away slowly, anger and confusion pouring through him. But most of all,  _fear_. Dr. Cartwright advanced, matching him step for step.

"You couldn't stop Sam from killing Lilith, and - oh, yeah -  _you_  broke the first seal. All you do is fail. Did you really think that  _you_ , Dean Winchester with a GED and a give-'em-hell attitude, was gonna beat the devil?" She snorted.

"Please. The world is gonna burn, and there is nothing that you can do about it" True fear finally triggered his best defense mechanism. Anger.

"Who are you? How do you know that stuff?" He snarled at her. The orderly from before puts down the laundry in his hand.

"Hey, settle down." He ordered. Dean ignored him, instead stepping closer to the brunette doctor.

"Tell me!" He snarled into her face. Footsteps approach, but Dean continued to study the young doctor's face, sinister dark eyes meeting his own green ones steadily.

"Who are you?" He muttered to her, backing away slowly. He glanced at the approaching orderly.

"Who is she?" He demanded. The slightly round man in bright white scrubs sighed, looking resigned.

"Who?" The orderly asked tiredly. Dean grew angry again.

"What are you, blind? Her!" He snapped, gesturing forcefully at the woman. Sammy's words played in the back of his head, an ominous reel of a nightmare come to life.

"Pal, there's nobody there." The orderly said, even as the phantom doctor began to speak again.

"I'm not real, Dean. I'm in your head...because you  _are_  going crazy." She whispered to him maliciously. Dean backed away from her, glancing up at the orderly, then down again at the now empty place Dr. Cartwright had once stood.

"Just leave me alone." Dean muttered, turning away and marching down the hall. Adrenaline rushed through his body as he shakes in fear. Glancing up into a mirror, he noticed that the overly friendly nurse looked like the wraith. Dean shook his head, and noticed that two more patients he passed had similarly horrific reflections. He stumbled a little as his logic left him, replaced by fear.

He slammed his body into a door, desperately trying to get through the locked door. He slides down the wall, eyes wide. Maybe Sam was right.

Maybe Dean really is going crazy.


	11. Chapter 11

_Dean_

Dean and Martin burst into Wendy's room, the only person to have had serious contact with either him or Sam. She had kissed them both at random intervals. He was utterly convinced that she was the wraith; just like he was convinced that if he stepped on the cracks of the tiles, he would end up falling through them back into Hell.

But to his complete shock, the weird nurse from their first day was hovering over Wendy's prone body, her wrists slit. The nurse glanced up at him, her odd smile still firmly in place as she withdrew a skewer from Wendy's neck.

"Is this real?" Dean muttered. The nurse laughed gently, standing up. Her dark eyes glittered oddly.

"Oh, it's real sugar."


	12. Chapter 12

_Dean_

He stumbles down the hall, his head spinning as he tries to work out what is real and what isn't. Dean grips the silver plated knife in his hand tightly. It's the only thing that could save him and Sammy and Anna. He had to protect them. He  _had_ to.

He follows the blood, the only thing about the hallway he knew was real. He collapsed to his knees, as the hall distorts around him. He suddenly recognized the hallway he was stumbling down.

This was the wing where the more troublesome patients stayed. Right now, the only two people staying here was Anna, and....  _Sammy_. Dean shoved himself back onto his feet just as he heard a loud crashing sound from Sam's room, the sound of a muffled shout of panic spurring him on. As he approached the door he could make out more and more of the conversation going on inside.

"I don't make crazy, I just crank up what's there. See, you build your own personal hell, I just hand you the legos. Then when you're ripe..... Well, that's when I make all your problems go away." The nurse's voice drifted from the open door. He heard a crashing sound, and two grunts before he saw a shadow fall to the ground.

"ANNA!" Sam roared. Dean forced his numb legs to move faster.

"You leave her alone!" His brother warned loudly. The nurse laughed.

"Oh, her. You wouldn't believe how many times I've dealt with her. The little halfblood can't seem to help herself. Mmm, she's in so  _much_  pain. I don't even need to kill her. I can taste her just by walking into the room. Besides, she's safe. For now. At least, until she outlives her usefulness." Dean snarled in determination, the last few words of the wraith propelling him the last few feet.

He burst into the room, looking wildly around. He spotted the nurse hovering over Sam's strapped down body, Anna thrown limply to the side. Dean's vision began to blur red as he spotted a trickle of blood running down from a cut on her forehead. He holds up the silver knife offensively, readying himself to fight her again.

"Get away from them." He warned darkly. The wraith laughed derisively.

"Do you really think this is gonna end well for you, kiddo?" It asked as it stood to face Dean. He shrugged, letting the crazy fill his eyes as he tipped his head sideways. A small smile slid across his face.

"No. But I'm crazy, so, what the hell?" He lunged forward, the silver blade swinging wildly. but the wraith ducked under his swing and tossed him into the wall. He fell to the ground with a grunt, the knife clattering out of his hand. The nurse grabbed his arm, and with supernatural strength threw him across the room. Sam surged up against his restraints fighting to get off the bed.

"Dean!" He cried out desperately. Dean rolled under the next hit, struggling to reach for the silver knife glinting on the floor just out of reach. The wraith grabbed him by the foot, yanking him back viciously. Pulling him up, she shoved him into the wall hard enough to leave a dent, plaster flaking to the floor. The wraith brought up it's hand, the skewer re-emerging from her wrist. With one hand he clutched at the hand choking him, the other he brought up in a desperate attempt to keep the wraith from killing him. Out the corner of his eyes, he noticed that Anna wasn't on the floor anymore. He couldn't see the silver knife anymore either. He grabbed the skewer that was nearly touching his forehead, and wrenched it to the side as hard as he could.

With a horrible scream, the pointed barb broke off, the wraith stumbling back as blood poured out of the broken and ruined appendage. She turned around to flee, only to be confronted with Anna, silver eyes flashing with a lucidity Dean didn't think she was capable of. With an inarticulate scream, the wraith attacked; but Anna was more than a match for the injured monster. With an almost terrifying ease, she parried every blow before plunging the blade into the wraith's chest. The nurse stumbled back, her disguise burning away quickly, leaving behind nothing more than a strange smell and flaking grey skin on the ground. Dean's vision cleared instantly, his mind following quickly after. The difference was amazing; he hadn't even realized  _how_  off he felt until the last of the wraith's influence vanished.

Anna dropped the knife, her eyes losing some of it's focus as she turned to untie Sam. Dean rushed to help her.

"You still crazy?" Sam asked warily, as one wrist came free. Dean shrugged as he watched Anna switch to freeing his brother's foot.

"Not any more than usual." He glanced around the trashed room, then at Anna who had sunk down against the floor now that Sam was half free. Her whole was shaking and she seemed to be mumbling under her breath. Grey eyes flicked around the room warily, fear filling her eyes.

"We gotta get her out of here." Sam nodded, swinging his body off the bed, looking down at the shaking body of their friend. It was a terrifyingly heartbreaking change, watching her go from the powerful hunter she was back to crazy town.

"Yeah. Come on." An alarm went off, and Anna flinched, scuttling away into a corner, shaking as she stared at the open door with terror written across her face. Dean felt something inside him tear at seeing her so afraid. Rage filled him as he scooped her up into his arms, following Sam out of his room. He could feel that her once strong body was wasted away under the thin hospital uniform. He would  _kill_  the demon that did this to her. Even if he had to climb back into hell itself to do so. 


	13. Chapter 13

_Sam_

He paused for a moment, watching Dean gently settle Anna into the backseat of the Impala; the once powerful and self assured hunter shaking in fear, grey eyes wide and staring at some danger only she could see. She was mumbling a string of unintelligible words, that sounded familiar; but Sam couldn't identify why. He ached inside for his friend, for the person she used to be.

Dean was so gentle as he carefully buckled Anna into her seat, making sure the belt didn't ruck up her shirt, carefully tucking long hair behind her ears. His brother made it seem so easy, to say no. To push away the burning rage he felt more and more frequently. But it wasn't as simple as pushing it away. Sam had  _tried_  that already. But he knew he would follow Dean, always.

Sam sighed and got into the car, but quickly twisting his body around to check on Anna when the backseat went silent. Her posture had gone ramrod straight, and her general countenance seemed to mirror that of a prisoner going to their execution. Rigid back, stoney face, slight tremors of fear racking her body. Dean started up the car, the Impala's engine turning over with its familiar roar. Sam relaxed instantly at the sound; the familiarity of the ritual calming him. Oddly enough, it seemed to do the same for Anna. Suddenly, a thought struck him.

"Dean?" Sam asked his brother urgently. Dean glanced over at him as he pulled the car out onto the highway.

"What are we going to say to  _Bobby?"_


	14. Chapter 14

_ Dean _

 

He took a long swing of his beer. 

He was sitting in another nameless dive bar in a long string of dive bars along the highway; filled with the same drunken locals and the same tired bartender who didn’t give a shit about what was going on inside the bar as long as the drunks paid their tab and nothing broke. He didn’t know what to do. Sammy was in the motel room with Anna, coaxing her into fresh clothing and getting her into bed. They’d stolen extra stores of her medication on the way out of the hospital, and he’d left it to his brother to figure out what to give her. Dean internally raged that he wasn’t making sure she was fine himself, but another more cowardly part of him needed to escape. 

To get away from  _ her _ . No, not her, to get away from what she  _ reminded _ him of. 

It made him feel incredibly guilty, but once he’d pulled her out of the hospital he couldn’t bring himself to even  _ look _ at her. Long repressed memories just kept crashing down on him. The way she’d laugh, the low rumbled of her motorcycle, the way her whole body was weapon. How she used to look so tired after cases involving kids, or how her monster knowledge rivaled his dad’s or how her smile would light up his day. How she saved his and Sammy’s asses more than once, the way she would carefully stich him back together after he’d get hurt or how infuriatingly hard it was to get her to let him do the same. 

Then the less good memories came. Dean took another long pull of beer even as he tried to block it out. The way her face had glowed in the light of hellfire. The way she screamed in pain as she was tortured. The way her blood flowed wet and sticky over his hands. The way she’d looked when she’d fallen over that ledge; when he’d seen her last. Into the final circle of Hell. 

Her body had still been alive down there, Dean remembered. It had been warm, with a beating heart and blood pumped through her veins. He shuddered at the memories.

In Hell, all he’d been was a soul. Sure he’d had the feelings of a body, and sometimes he even looked like it too. His shade would regain form so that Alastair could hurt him over and over and over again. Hurt him until Dean’s soul got off the rack and took up the blade himself. At first he’d tell himself it was all imaginary, that he couldn’t hurt because he was nothing more than a ghost; nobody to harm. But as time passed and the pain increased it got harder and harder to say no. Then the hallucinations came. Visions of Sam dying; of Anna being hurt. Phantom whispers of his dad saying he should have let him die, whispers of all the people he couldn’t save murmuring accusations into his soul. When he’d first seen Anna he had thought she was nothing more than yet another in a long, painful, line of hallucinations. 

But then, she’d cut him free. And together they had fled through the halls of Hell looking for the exit. An exit he didn’t think existed. But he’d gone anyways because it was Anna and he trusted her with every ounce of his being. 

Dean took another long drink from the beer bottle, glaring into the nearly empty bottle. He waved at the bartender to bring him another beer. He picked up the bottle and moved to a booth as the next set of memories washed over him. 

They’d gotten caught the first time. And the second and third and fourth and the twentieth. But they kept trying; exhaustion slowly overtaking them, but Anna never looked any less determined to make it back to the surface. Overtime the demons had learned to move their cells further and further apart; made it harder for them to get away. He knew Anna broke out nearly everyday since the first capture. And that she could escape without him. That no matter how tired or injured she was,  _ Dean _ was the reason they never got away. Then one day, Alastair dragged her back to him in chains, half dead. He gritted his teeth as he flashed back to that horrible day. 

_ He slumped in his chains. Oddly enough nothing had happened to him that day; nothing at all. And it put him on edge. The waiting was almost worse than the inevitable pain. Then he heard the clanking of chains, and the sound of a dragging body. The door to his own personal torture chamber flew open, leaving the terror inducing form of Alastair framed in the light of the hellfire just outside. Dean couldn’t find the energy to move his head. With a soft grunt, the chained body was thrown the ground in front of him. _

_ Dean felt his imaginary heart stop.  _

_ Anna sprawled across the floor, covered in blood. Bronze chains that glowed wound around her body like sick jewelry. Her arm was clearly broken in at least two places, and she had a long slash running down her cheek. His non existent breath (it was a habit that his soul never seemed to shake) caught in his throat when he finally finally saw her chest rise and fall with her shallow breathing.  _

_ She was still alive.  _

_ Dean had never really believed in God. Not with everything he’d seen. But he sure as hell believed in the devil; after all Dean seemed to be his favorite guest. And here was a new way for the devil to hurt him.  _

Dean dragged his mind away from the memories. He knew what happened next. He knew that Alastair would take Dean down, let him slump, chained against the wall as Anna took his place. How he was left untouched for days as Alastair tortured her in his stead for unending hours. It just went on and on and on until Dean finally said yes. Just so that when she hurt, it would hurt that much less. But after that first day or torture, of him taking that fucking blade to her, he never saw her again. Not until she tried to rescue him that final time. Not until they made it to the very edge of the Pit, the one she called Tartarus. All they had to do was cross the narrow gap between the horrible gravitational like pull of Tartarus and the Final Circle of Hell. But Alastair caught up to them, and gave Dean a choice. One of them would have to fall. And when he picked himself; the demons shoved Anna into Tartarus. She hadn’t screamed when she fell, just looked up at him as she disappeared from view. 

Into the lowest reaches of hell, where not even demons always returned from. 

And it had been his fault. 

Anna had warned him before he made his deal that there would be a price to pay. And that he wouldn’t  be the only one to pay it when his debt came due. Anna had halved his price, taking it onto herself. There was nothing he could do to change that. And Anna had paid, with more than her life. 

Dean took another swing of his beer only to find that it was empty. He stood up, tossing down enough cash to cover his tab before stumbling out to his car. No way he was driving back tonight. Not in this state. He dragged out the extra blanket he kept in the car, and wadded up his jacket to use as a pillow before crashing. He was asleep even before his head hit his coat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!
> 
> Ok, not a happy chapter, but an update is an update right?


	15. Chapter 15

_Sam_

She sat quietly on the motel room bed, her back pressed against the wall. She glanced at Sam, her sharp grey eyes more lucid than he’d ever seen her. In the hospital, as soon as the wraith died, he had felt the influence of the monster vanish instantly. But Anna had been under its thrall for  _months_ ; on top of having escaped Hell. Who knew how long it would take before she returned to any semblance of normal.

It didn’t help that Dean had vanished almost as soon as they’d paid for their room, leaving Sam alone to deal with the crazy hunter. His brother seemed to have a calming influence on Anna. Now that Dean was gone (probably to a bar Sam thought bitterly) she’d grown agitated again.

He sat down slowly on the edge of the bed, her hospital chart in his hand. He was no doctor, but he knew enough to understand the chart inside. Reading it would help him figure out exactly what cocktail of mood stabilizers, anti-anxiety medication and other medications that he didn’t even know  _what_  they were for, she should take. But he didn't want look at it without her knowledge unless he absolutely had too. Anna has always been intensely private, often to the point of paranoia. Now that she was back, Sam didn’t want to deny her that privacy when she was in no place to defend it herself.

“Anna?” He broached quietly. The other hunter didn’t move, just watched him through wary eyes. But he noticed her tense when he reached towards the bag containing the pilfered medication. Knowing how deadly she could be, and having no clue how stable she was at the moment, he backed up slowly. He didn’t know how much of her crazy came from her time in Hell and how much was the residual effect of a wraith screwing with her mind for months on end.

Sam moved slowly, not unlike how he would approach a skittish animal, his hands spread wide to prove he was unarmed and harmless.

“Anna, do you know where you are?” He asked her softly. The only sign that she was listening was that her eyes followed his movements, otherwise she remained still and silent.

“Anna it’s Sam. Do you remember me?” He asked her quietly. Still nothing. He’d moved up close enough that he could touch her if he wanted to. He didn’t.

“Anna can I sit?” He asked her quietly. She blinked slowly, eyes flicking from his face to the chair next to the bed. He lowered himself down slowly, watching her every move. When he was fully seated he leaned forward a little, keeping his hands firmly over his knees. Sam never broke eye contact. He was at a loss for what to do, but he knew he had to keep trying.

“Anna, do you know where you are?” He asked her again, watching as her eyes finally moved away from him, flitting around the room. There was an odd lack of depth to her expression. Anna had always been hard to read, her expressions carefully guarded. But calling her hard to read wasn’t right anymore, she was simply  _blank_. Empty. Taking in information but she had no idea how to put the pieces together to form a conclusion. She was nothing like the Anna he used to know.

“Anna-” She interrupted him, her voice toneless and flat.

“Motel. Somewhere in Oklahoma, USA. Not Hell.” She immediately lapsed back into silence. Her gaze fixed on the wall in front of her. Sam straightened up suddenly. According to absolutely everyone in that damned hospital, Anna hadn’t spoken a word in months. Not since she’d been found. But she was perfectly coherent. At least she seemed like it. As he paid her closer attention, he noticed her hands were gripping each other so tightly that her knuckles were white. Even though she looked relaxed, he noticed small signs of tension running through her body as she shook with light tremors. She was ready to move in a heartbeat. Her eyes were determinedly fixed on a stretch of wall slightly to the left, avoiding looking at Sam or the mirror that hung directly in front of her. She might be pretending to be calm, but Anna was even more tense now than she’d been at the hospital.

“Anna, you’re safe. Not in Hell. I promise.” Sam told her quietly. Anna went stock still and so did he. Sam hadn’t realized that he’d been shifting closer to her. He settled back in his seat and she relaxed. The movement was so small that he nearly didn’t notice.

“Anna, I’m going to move off the chair ok? I’m not going to hurt you.” He told her as he started to move. Anna looked stressed but didn’t do anything else, watching him out the corner of her eye, but never at him directly. He knelt on the floor next to the bed, making himself smaller; or as much smaller as he could. He was now just about eye level with her.

“Anna, can I hold your hand?” He asked her quietly. He lifted his hand onto the bed, palm up, leaving her the choice to initiate contact. Anna tensed but Sam refused to move. She reached out a shaking hand, lowering it slowly until her hand hovered just above his own. Her palm was so close to his that he could feel her body heat. But as soon as he shifted to take her hand, something in her changed. Her once lucid eyes emptied and she let out a feral snarl.

Anna vaulted over the bed and made a break for the door. Sam lunged after her. It wasn’t safe for her to be out and about on her own, and he knew that if she wanted to lose him, Sam would never catch her; no matter how crazy she was. He beat her to the door, slamming his body in front of it. Anna backed away as Sam approached, her eyes darting all over the place; frantic. She skittered backwards but Sam stayed far back, letting her gain the space she needed. He held his hands out in front of him, trying to calm her down again.

“Anna, do you know where we are? Anna you’re in a motel room, in Oklahoma remember? Anna?” He asked her softly, trying to ground her in reality. She was panicking, and based on the violent twitching, she was terrified. Anna scuttled backwards into a corner, another vicious snarl emerging from her lips. All semblance of humanity had faded from her, leaving nothing but a cornered animal behind. He stayed far back, not wanting to spook her into attacking him. He crouched down to her level, trying to show her that he was safe. That she could trust him, that she was safe.

“Anna you’re safe. You aren’t there anymore. Anna, come back.” He pleaded with her even as she whipped her body around and slashed out with her hands to battle an invisible attacker. She whirled around the room fluidly, shifting from one battle style to another to another to another, eventually evolving into something he didn’t recognize at all. Sam felt entirely helpless, because he had no idea how to reach her. Then something in the back of his mind sparked.

“Anna.” He called, approaching at an angle so that she would see him coming. She didn’t even flinch, instead maneuvering him into a defensive position as she crouched at the ready for monsters that only existed in her mind. But she never fully turned her back to him, alway keeping him in the peripherals of her vision. Sam tried again.

“Anna.” He said forcefully. She stiffened, her eyes flicking to him.

“You’re safe now. You saved us. You even managed to save Dean from his deal. Now you’re home. You can go home to the junkyard in Sioux Falls to see Bobby or go to New York and see Nico if you want. Anna, you’re  _home_. It’s over.” Lucidity bled back into her eyes. She stood up straight, shaking slightly.

“Sam?” She asked shakily. He nodded encouragingly.

“Yeah Anna. It’s me.”

“Sam? No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…. You can’t be here. I  _saved_  you. You can’t be here.” Tears welled up in her eyes, as she reached out to him, hands running over his face, shoulders and sides as though trying to deny to herself that he was real.

“Anna, I’m here. But you aren’t in Hell anymore. You got out.” He insisted. Anna shook as tears rolled down her face.

“No, no it can’t be. There’s no way out. The Doors are gone and I can’t access the tunnels. I’m not a monster you see, Sam, I’m not allowed to leave that way. Oh, Sam you aren’t really here are you? I’m just crazy and Mr. D isn’t here to fix me anymore. No, no no no no no no no no. I climbed and climbed and climbed Sammy, up and up and up but no one escapes Tartarus through Hades domain. You have to be a monster to go without the Doors. I’m a half blood with nowhere to turn.” She started to ramble, and Sam sat her back down on the bed letting her talk. He didn’t understand any of what she was talking about, but she had realized that he was real, or at least, that he wasn’t a threat to her. He glanced down at the pile of medications. She needed them, desperately, and he didn’t have the time or the energy to gain her permission anymore. He opened the file.

Sam’s eyes widened as he took in the pages and pages of notes the doctors had made. On her physical condition, on the little they were able to judge of her mental state. The speculations on what had happened to her. He felt a little sick as he catalogued the injuries the institution had found on her. The faded scars and the damaged muscles and the signs of torture.

Dean had come back practically pristine. The only mark on his body upon his return from Hell was the glowing red hand print seared into his sick where Cas had held onto his soul. Anna was not. Sam swallowed hard and flipped to the back, and checked the medicine schedule. He quickly shook out the requisite pills into his palm and slowly slowly cajoled her into taking them. Not to long after, Anna fell asleep, the medication taking affect.

He settled back into his chair. He remembered that Anna had violent nightmares, and that at the hospital they’d strapped her to the bed. Sam wasn’t about to do that. Anna was a better fighter than him, smarter and faster. And she was strong for her size. But Sam was six foot four inches of muscle, and he had the brute strength to stop her from hurting herself if he had too.

It was going to be a  _long_  night. 


	16. Chapter 16

_Dean_

He finally stumbled back into the motel room around noon, his head pounding from the raging hangover he was nursing. He pulled up short when he took in the empty room. Fear began to pulse through his chest as he took in the scene.

It was utterly destroyed. Lamps overturned on the ground, the bed broken. Long scratches were torn into the wall. The mirror over the dresser was shattered. Blood on the floor.

Someone had put up one hell of a fight. And now Sam and Anna were gone. Dean raced through the room, hunting for any sign of where they might have gone, who might have taken them. Sam's bag was still stuffed under the bed, Dean's duffel crushed by a chair that had fallen on its side. The things they'd stolen for Anna were scattered across the bathroom counter top. Her medical file was gone though. Dean burst out of the room, a prayer on the tip of his tongue when he spotted a battered and bruised Sam carefully walking Anna through the motel parking lot.

Hangover forgotten he raced over to them, relief rushing through him.

"What the hell happened?" He asked roughly, as he made a quick scan of his baby brother, before turning his scrutinizing gaze over to Anna. She didn't seem to be injured almost at all, just bruised with a bloody set of knuckles. She had a small cut on her cheek, but it had already been bandaged over. Sam had the worst of it, dark bruises blooming out from underneath the edges of his clothing. Anna was holding an ice cream cone, while Sam carried a box of take out under his arm.

"Nothing Dean." Sam said exasperatedly.

"That shiner you're sporting isn't nothing Sammy." Dean reprimanded gently, as the three of them walked into the room. Dean made sure to bolt it shut before pushing Sam down onto the bed. He grabbed his kid brother's chin, tilting his face from left to right before turning towards their first aid kit and digging out the tube of arnica. He handed it to Sam before turning to Anna.

She was standing passively besides them, the ice cream slowly beginning to melt into the napkin. He approached her slowly, and she let him push her down into a seated position on the bed too. He also checked her over, moving slowly and gently as he rolled up her sleeves and carefully began to take care of her battered hands.

"C'mon Sammy. Spill it. What happened in here. I get back and it looks like somebody was nearly murdered in here." Dean asked, dabbing antiseptic onto the torn skin. The sting of it made her tense, but otherwise she allowed him to bandage her up.

"Nothing happened Dean. I brought her in here and took care of her. That's it. The real question is, where the he... where were  _you?_  Anna needs both of us right now and you just took off." Sam said shortly, exiting the bathroom, pulling his shirt back down over bruises Dean hadn't seen.

"I went out for a bit. Needed to think." Dean replied defensively. He finished taping her hands, but didn't let go of her. He still couldn't believe she was actually back.

"About what Dean? What was so goddamn important inside that thick skull of yours that you abandoned her? After everything she did for us, what she did for  _you_. What was so  _important?"_  Sam snarled at him. Dean felt a slight flinch and gently let go on Anna, standing up slowly and turning to face his brother.

"Not here Sammy." He glanced down at Anna, who was shaking slightly, her eyes glazed over. Sam immediately backed down, but the look in his eyes said that their conversation was far from over. Dean had told Sam about Hell, his time in it. But never all the details, never the full truth. Never what he did to Anna, not the price she paid for him.

He wasn't looking forward to telling him. And Dean knew he was running out time to tell Sam himself. 

Soon, Dean promised himself. He'd tell Sammy soon.  


	17. Chapter 17

_ Anna _

She opened her eyes to the familiar grey ceiling of the Impala. She’d been with the boys for just under a week. She was glad that her visions tended to warp time more than Tartarus already did. She wanted to savor this time she had with them. 

The last vision, the hospital was too much for her to bear, so she’d tried to interact with it as little as possible. But her time in Hell, then in Tartarus, was shattering her mind, and lucidity was harder and harder to come by. By the end of the hospital hallucination, she was struggling to remember that she wasn’t actually in the world of the living. That her reality was dangerous and filled with acidic air, flaming water and monsters coming after her from every direction, at all hours. 

Anna knew she was crazy. The daughter of Athena was clinically self aware in that respect. But what she couldn’t handle was the questioning of her world. She was crazy, but not so much so that her whole identity was gone. She was a demigod. Not an insane mortal. Right? 

Her hallucination had temporarily broken, an attack of monsters sending her into a collision of battle. The only thing that confused her was the fact that Eleos was missing. The loss of her sword was crippling, especially because she couldn’t remember losing it. But like always, she’d survived, scavenging weapons from anything she could lay her hands on and managed to kill the last monster by stabbing it through the chest. Then she dragged herself to a new hiding place where she could be safe. Anna was tired, and had allowed herself to sink back into her mind rather than fighting off her visions.

That was when Sam had appeared in front of her. He’d been  _ in Tartarus _ with her. And it was all wrong. She went  _ to _ her visions, not the other way around. It had been that way ever since the bright light she’d climbed and fought through ages ago. It had been hot and cold and bright. It had been clean but also tainted, both salvation and damnation. It had burned her with sensations when she'd gone through it. Anna doesn't remember much of what she saw on the other side of it though. The hospital delusion had started up not too long after the light, and besides there had been that cloudy cotteny feeling in her head. It had been hard to think for a while. Then the Winchester brothers had hijacked her dream, and the feeling had slowly begun to drain away. Ever since the last monster attack, she'd been feeling more and more herself again. 

She knew that however long it had been since she fell had twisted her, broken her psyche. 

She resolved to visit with Eris once this next bought of hallucinations broke. The goddess of discord had been delighted by the turmoil Anna caused simply by surviving the monstrous pit for as long as she had. The goddess had even guided her to the relative safety of a swamp. She only had to worry about killing a drakon once a day and keep guard over the two rising golden bubbles within the massive abandoned hut. She’d been warned against destroying whatever was reforming inside there, and because she didn’t have a massive death wish, she listened to Eris. 

Music washed over her as the last vestiges of her dream faded away. It had been an odd dream, nothing more than vague flashes of iridescent light and harsh cries in a language she didn’t understand or even recognize. It just sounded old. Which was strange, because she spoke even the ancient languages now. She’d spent far too much time blindfolded in the palace of Nyx not too. 

She scoffed out loud as she recalled her time in the Palace of Night. 

_ ‘Tourist.’ _ She thought scornfully. Meeting the primordial embodiment of night had been a strange experience. She’d been utterly delighted that she and her children had been added to the tour of Tartarus. Honestly, the things Annabeth comes up with. The goddess said she’d even renovated her palace to include a hotel. Anna was a less than consenting guest for a period of time. But it had also been one of the safer spaces she’d lived in in the pit. It helped that she’d named her favorite weapon after one of Nyx’s children, flattering the ancient goddess.  

“Morning sunshine.” Dean called back softly to her. Anna looked over to the elder Winchester brother. She wanted to let herself get dragged into the dream, to embrace the vision. But Anna also knew if she did, that was a good way to get killed. And Anna wasn’t going to die until she found a way out. Not if she could help it. 

Having the brothers back, even if it was just inside an insane hallucination, was simultaneously heartbreaking and motivating. They looked so different. Dean was missing that scar on his face, and his whole expression had grown harsher, and he’d grown more tired. Sam’s hair was longer, the bangs gone. It still hung in his eyes though. He’d lost the little kid look, less of a puppy dog. Both of her friends looked like they’d gone a few rounds with the universe and lost. It was strange, because before the light, she’d always seen them they way they’d looked before she’d jumped. 

“Hungry Anna?” Sam asked, already holding up a bag of take out. She silently took it from him, opening up the bag and looking inside. It contained the usual grocery store breakfast sandwich they gave her every morning. She was grateful to her subconscious for not picking something she actually loved. She couldn’t take it if they’d given her something like pancakes or blueberries and have it turned to ash in her mouth. She just picked at the edges of the cardboard tasting bread. She set it aside quickly. 

“You gotta eat Anna. You’re skin and bones.” Sam chided her softly, watching through the rearview mirror. Obediently she picked up the sandwich again, taking another bite before setting it aside. She swallowed, not really tasting anything. She looked outside the window, enjoying the lack of red sky and acid air. It felt _ so real. _ The blue skies, and the cool rain, and the sweet smell of grass. Even the harsh smell of gasoline was better than the poisonous air of Tartarus. They’d been driving for days, staying in the car for only a few hours at a time, moving slowly. The boys kept stopping, pulling over into the sunshine and convincing her to get out of the car. They waded in an ice cold river, hiked up a hill, saw some silly roadside attractions. They took her on picnics, they snuck into a little county fair and went to go and pet some goats in the petting zoo. The other night they watched the sunset, sitting on the hood of the Impala. Anna liked those moments. She didn’t like stopping in the towns so much. Never sure if the people around her were part of the hallucinations or were monsters. She was sure she’d caught sight of one or two, but so far nothing had been an issue. She tilted her head to the side, observing distantly the passing scenery. 

She sits up suddenly. It wasn’t just trees and grass and fields and cows they’ve driving past. They were driving through South Dakota. They were taking her to Bobby. 

“No.” She says forcefully. The car stalls for a moment, before resuming its previous smooth forward moment. 

“No.” She insists again, trying to grab control of her vision. It’s what she did whenever her head tried to take her someplace she didn’t want to go. Bobby was one of those. Camp was another. She only let herself stay with the boys this time out of weakness. The boys were to transitory, always on the move. It hurt less that way to see them. People were ok, and Anna had grown lonely in the years she’d spent alone in the Pit. She missed the world above. But she knew seeing a place she thought of as home would break her completely. She would finally die. 

_ “No.” _ She insisted again, gripping her hands in her hair. It was clean, for the first time in a long time. She’d had it washed during the hospital dream, but with the boys she’d gotten nicer soap for some reason. So it was soft. 

_ ‘Off topic.’  _ She scolded herself. She was focusing, trying to retreat from the dream. She’d always been able to leave before. But now, she couldn’t. She was stuck. 

“No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.” She chanted to herself softly, shaking her head. She was rocking, her whole world shifting from beneath her. Air stuttered out from her lungs in sharp uneven movements as Anna started to hyperventilate. She was suddenly aware of the fact that the car was pulled over, and both of the brothers were with her. 

“Anna, Anna what’s wrong?” Sam was asking her gently, even as Dean carefully navigated her out of the car. She was gently settled on the ground, her legs stretched out in front of her. Sam was holding her arms above her head, opening her airways up. Dean crouched directly in front of her, gently instructing her to breath, demonstrating slowly. Anna matched him as best she could, yanking her hands out of Sam's grip. The fear and panic beating wildly in her chest settled.

The final remnants of the fog she’d been living under since being moved into the hospital suddenly lifted. Clarity broke through her clouded head, like a lightning strike, and she let out a broken sob, pulling herself away from her friends, unsteadily getting to her feet. She held her arms out in front of her, studying the way sunlight filtered through the air. Light danced on her skin, her unhealthily pale skin glowed red as light filtered through the blood vessels in her finger tips. She spun around to face Sam and Dean. Tears streamed down her face. 

“This is real.” She whispered roughly. A statement. _Fact_. Hope bloomed in her chest, a burning sensation inside of her as she looked to her friends. A cautious smile broke out over Dean’s face. 

“Yeah, Anna. Yeah it is.” 

“I’m out?” She asked in wonder, her knees weak beneath her and she collapsed onto the gravel they’d pulled over onto. 

“Anna!” She ignored the two concerned cries as she ran her hands through the stones, ignoring the mildly uncomfortable feeling of gravel digging into her knees. She sobbed as she let the dirt fall through her fingers, even as she turned to look in wonder at the grass growing in the field they pulled over next to. 

“Oh, gods. Oh gods. I’m out. I’m out. I’m out.” She sobbed, even as laughter rippling out of her chest. She looked up at her friends. 

“You’re real?” She whispered to them, hands over her mouth, her breathing stuttering out of her chest unevenly. She didn’t even wait for them to answer. She just launched herself into their arms, hugging them tightly to herself. 

 

She’d done it. She was  _ free _ .


	18. Chapter 18

_ Dean _

After Anna’s initial outburst, she’d sobered quickly. She’d insisted that they turn the car around, and head straight back to Wyoming. 

“Why Wyoming?” Dean asked her through gritted teeth. He avoided the state when he could, for obvious reasons. He would have expected Anna to feel the same way. He avoided going anywhere near where he’d been killed and resurrected at all costs. Anna glanced up, her face scrunched in concentration.  

“That’s where I came back. Woke up under the rubble of the Devil’s Gate. It’s a blur, mostly because I had just climbed through an interdimensional gateway, but also partly because I thought I was hallucinating the entire time. But I remember leaving Eleos there. I think” Anna said, her expression growing dark with frustration as she tried to grasp at the holes in her mind. 

Dean didn’t press her for more details beyond that. He remembered coming back from Hell. She would talk when she was ready. 

Dean’s thoughts paused for a moment, as he realized that she probably wouldn’t. Anna was even worse than him about not talking about the important stuff. And  _ he _ had only talked about it after Sam had pushed at him for  _ weeks _ . Her gaze had wandered out the window, her forehead furrowed in concentration. 

Something about his friend still seemed off. She might have realized that the world around her was real, that she was no longer in Hell. But Anna was still flinching, her eyes flicking into the shadows in suspicion. She’d almost entirely lost her ability to lie. Every emotion she felt was on her face, and Dean could practically read her thoughts just by glancing in the mirror. It was unsettling. 

He’d once wished for her to be less guarded, during a djinn induced dream. But never like this. Not because she’d been torn open, pulled inside out and now had no idea how to even begin putting herself back together. Dean glanced at the road signs. They’d been driving for several hours now, the longest stretch they’d gone in days. He and Sam hadn’t wanted to cage Anna in the car for more than an hour or two at a time, and the ten hour drive to Sioux Falls had turned into a three day saga. Now, they would arrive at the destroyed Devil’s Gate within the next ten minutes.

He pulled over, stopping the car at the train tracks. He and Sam got out of the car, and Anna followed suit after a long moment. She was hesitant, and Dean saw the fear in her expression. 

“What if I fall again?” She asked softly. Dean curled an arm around her, hugging her into his side. 

“Won’t let that happen.” He stated confidently. 

“What if I have too?” She asked suddenly straightening, her eyes filled with an odd determination. 

“Still wouldn’t let that happen.” He insisted, uncomfortable with the sudden fire that had filled her eyes. 

“Why’d you have to Anna?” Sam asked her. Anna shrugged Dean’s arm off of her, as she strode off. Something about the question seemed to temporarily resurrect the old Anna, her old confidence straightening her shoulders and purpose infusing every step. They all walked across the graveyard, Dean and Sam both carrying weapons while Anna seemed confident and unafraid. She reached the spot where the Devil’s Gate used to be, and after only a brief moment of hesitation, frantically began to dig. He and Sam glanced at each other once before dropping to their knees to help. 

They dug and dug until Sam found an empty black scabbard, worn and damaged. Anna let out a triumphant cry as she picked up a single gold ring. Dean found a couple more, and she slid them on, one by one. She flexed her hand, and deadly sharp looking claws shot out from the metal around her fingers. Eventually they managed to excavate the whole pile, and there was nothing left. Neither of her guns, or the second half of her ring set or any of her other weapons. 

No sword. 

Anna seemed unperturbed though. She took the scabbard from Sam and carefully slung it over her shoulder. Dean’s eyes widened. The sword was there. In the scabbard. That had been empty thirty seconds ago. Dean’s hand twitches violently towards his gun at the blatant display of magic. 

“What in the  _ hell _ was that?” He snarled suddenly. Anna’s eyes widened with fear, and suddenly she grew very tense. Her hand twitched towards her weird ass sword, and her expression shut down. It was like Anna was leaving the building. Her expression was emptying out, horrifyingly similar to how she had looked while she’d been in the hospital. Before they’d broken through to her. 

Something inside him died, even as another part stiffened his resolve. Clearly, Anna had more to go than just the destruction of the wraith. On the other hand, she was dangerous, and clearly had access to some kind of mojo. Which placed her in the possible target category. 

“Dean.” Sam warned him softly, putting his gun down. Dean couldn’t quite bring himself to follow suit, but slowly lowered his own weapon. Non threatening. Right. 

“Anna, Anna, can you come back to us? You’re out, remember?” Sam asked softly. Anna stalked forward, reaching back and smoothly unsheathing the bitterly familiar sword as she moved. Dean glanced down at his gun. Then he checked Sam’s. The shotgun in his brother’s hand was loaded with rock salt. His was loaded with bullets. If it came down to it, Sam would shoot first. His eyes flicked up to his brother’s face. Sam got the message, and his expression was grim. 

“Anna, you’re safe ok? We’re not going to hurt you.” Sam tried cajoling again. 

Something in her expression broke. The sword dropped to the ground and the claws vanished. Anna collapsed to the ground, her shoulders shaking. Dean took Sam’s gun and they both approached her cautiously. She was laughing, giggling, snorting  _ laughing _ . She was laughing so hard tears streamed down her face, but when her voice hitched wetly; Dean realized that their half crazed mojo sword wielding  _ friend _ was also crying. 

“Anna?” It came out like a question. It wasn’t supposed too. She just laughed and cried a little more, shaking her head. 

“Do it.” She said, nodding to the guns. She rose up on her knees, arms spread wide. Offering them the shot. 

“I promise bullets will work.” She sobbed and laughed. Dean lowered his gun and tucked it away. He couldn’t shoot her. He’d known that in the back of his head already, but when she’d offered herself up like a sacrificial lamb, it cemented it. The core part of him that once sold his soul for his brother shifted, and suddenly Dean realized that Anna had somehow fallen into the category as Sammy. He would die before letting her get hurt, let alone kill her. 

Anna kicked her weapons away from herself, eyes widening in wild desperation. 

“Do it. Do it now, before I remember, before I fight. Because we all know who’s going to win.” She half begged them. 

“C’mon Dean. Finish the job. You can do it. It’ll be quick. Quicker than time moved while we were running. Promise. Won’t even feel a thing, right here.” Anna tapped the center of her forehead, grey eyes looking up at him, tears spilling over, rolling down her cheeks. Dean stepped back in horror, unsure of how to react. They’d put people down before, witches, werewolves. Things that used to be people, vampires and demons. But this was different. Anna might have weird mojo that Dean doesn’t trust, but he also wouldn’t hurt her. Couldn’t. 

“Anna, no.” Sam said softly. There weren’t words to describe the sudden panic filling Dean. If this wasn’t a trick, if this was Anna, he didn’t want to hear those words coming from her lips. But if it was a monster, he wouldn’t be able to gank it. No, not with all the weird little reminders and flashbacks that he was finding in their lives that made him want to cling to her so tightly she could never leave them again. 

Anna let out another choked laugh, the crazed sound slowly being swallowed by the tears pouring down her face. 

“They warned me. When I agreed to figure this out. To look for Azazel. To destroy this gate. When I joined you. They said I would die.  _ Yes Sammy _ . C’mon Short Stuff. I didn’t die like I was supposed too then. Let’s make it right. Right here. Where I should have gone _. _ ” Anna’s eyes were slowly losing their lucidity, and her tears were slowing. Soon enough all that sat in front of them was the same empty shell they’d rescued from the hospital. 

No he wasn't going to kill her. But he sure as hell was going to find out what the hell was going on with her. The time for secrets had more than passed. The end is nigh, and they can’t afford to be hiding anything. 

Not even Dean. He knew that he’d run out of time to tell Sam what had really happened in Hell. 


	19. Chapter 19

_Sam_

They were holed up in another random motel. Anna was docile and compliant, sitting obediently when told to, taking the medicine Sam handed her, eating the food they set in front of her. All her weapons were in the back of the Impala, locked up tightly, the mojo sword sitting inside a Devil’s Trap made up of salt as an extra precaution.

Now she was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall while the two brothers watched her. Dean had made several aborted trips to the beer stash, picking one up only to set it back down again. They had both silently agreed that now was not the time to be drinking.

Sam didn’t like the look in Dean’s eye. It was that toxic mix of hurt and anger that always lead to his older brother doing something he regrets. Anna sat on the bed, her expression blank. The tear tracks from before and dried into salty trails, and while she was mostly compliant, Anna wasn’t letting either of them near enough to touch her either.

Dean paced around the room again, looking for all the world like a caged animal. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a dull knife. Sam couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed Dean and shoved him out the door, following behind his brother. Enough was more than enough. They’d double checked that she was human, but that wasn’t really the problem at hand. No, the issue was that they knew nothing about her, and now that her sword had mojo, and what little they’d known before wasn’t good enough anymore. Not for Dean, and even Sam was hesitant. But the expression on Dean’s face, the nervous energy wasn’t just about Anna. Or at least not in the sense Sam was right now.

And Sam was done waiting for Dean to just spit it out.

“What the hell is going on Dean?” Sam snarled. His brother ignored him, staring down at the ground, arms folded tightly across his chest as he leaned against the Impala.

“We don’t know anything about her!” Dean burst out, green eyes glaring at him balefully.

“So what! She’s saved our asses more times than I want to count, and now she needs our help! So what if her sword is a little weird. We talk to Bobby, and he’ll tell us if we gotta destroy the sword. But I’d rather find out first, than do it rashly and hurting Anna. That sword means a lot to her. We can’t just do things without thinking anymore! That’s how we ended up in this mess in the first place!”

“We don’t know what she wants!” Dean snapped back, shuffling his feet.

“Bobby trusted her.” Sam pointed out.

“Bobby didn’t even know she was alive until she showed up at his house three and a half years ago. That’s not a good way to know a person Sammy.”

“Stop making excuses Dean! Anna isn’t  _like_  Ruby. She told us a lot of what she knew, didn’t ask us to do shit for her, and then jumped into Hell to seal a Devil’s Gate. What the hell is going on!” Sam roared, getting right into his brother’s face. Dean shoved him back, looking pissed as his fists clenched into tight fists. His brother turned around facing the car, hands clenched into tight fists.

“Because to create a demon you torture a soul until it breaks, then you remake them. Slowly, quickly, by turning them  _into_  the torturers Sam. That’s what I was on my way to becoming before Cas pulled me out. Because even though Anna got my deal changed, I wasn’t strong enough to keep myself from breaking the first seal. And who knows how long they had her for. We don’t know if she’s turned or changed or a spy or anything else!” Dean snapped, turning away from him. Sam froze.

“I left her down there to  _rot_ , and now she’s back. We don’t know how, or why. We don’t know what’s in her head, or what’s left of her soul. She’s not a demon, but for all we know, she could have been pretty damn close to one.” Dean’s voice had dropped to a rough whisper, guilt filling his expression as he slumped back against the car.

“Your deal. What did Anna do?” Sam croaked, his mind whirling in a thousand different directions, but Dean’s deal the most prominent question in his mind.

Silence stretched out between the two brothers for several long minutes. Anxiety and fear and adrenaline collided inside of him, and Sam could hear his heart beat thundering in his ears as he watched his brother struggle to come up with the words to answer him.

“One month for every day you were gone.” Dean finally whispered.

“What?” Sam was stunned.

“She traded her for me. She couldn’t get me out of it, but somehow she changed it. One month for every day you were gone and then she would replace me. And I would go free. Because she had a way out, or she thought she did. And she was alive while we were down there, so they couldn’t have her, but she was in Hell, so she’d fulfilled the terms of agreement. Somehow she’d found a loophole and outmaneuvered the demon deal.” Dean took a shaking breath.

“But we were still stuck down there. In Hell. The deal is your soul needed to be in Hell, but the torture isn’t part of the contract. So we broke out. Everyday for weeks. Months.  _Years._  Sammy, you should have seen her down there. She never gave up, even though they caught us time and time again, dragging us back to the rack over and over and over again. And she’d come right back, breaking me out. Even though she knew that my soul was bound to Hell until my time was up, that she could make a real break for it if she left me behind; but she never did. Until one day, they pulled me down from the rack, and put her on in my place. And they did horrible things to her, all while whispering in my ear that if only I took up the razor, if I hurt her instead, just  _one_   _time_ , they would take her down. That if I tortured other souls, they would leave her alone. And I hurt her Sammy. I hurt her. I hurt her in so many ways that day. It might have been less than what they’d would have done to her, but _I_ held that razor and carved it into her body. Her living, bleeding, breathing, breaking  _body_. And at the end of that day they took her down. The first seal was broken. I didn’t see her again. But I didn’t forget what I’d done. Didn’t forget how it had felt. It felt good to hurt her. For once to have escaped that rack, with that friggen razor breaking my soul. And I kept going. Going and going and going, soul after soul after soul until she came back for me that last time. And we ran together for what felt like days… we nearly made it out Sammy…. There was this bridge between Hell and, someplace else. But we got caught. And they threw her down into the deepest reaches of Hell and Cas pulled my ass back to the land of the living. One week before the end of my deal.”

Sam stumbled back, his breathing stuttering out of his chest unevenly. A rush of adrenaline flows through him, and red crosses his vision.

“Your…. You…. the… you got the deal changed…” He breathed. Sam’s shoulder shook as his chest heaved with the force of his breathing. Dean look at him, eyes wide and pleading.

“I didn’t know if it was possible… if it was even real Sammy. I didn’t… I didn’t want to give you any false hope.” His brother’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. He didn’t,  _couldn’t_ , respond to Dean.

“I did that to her. Who knows what else happened to her… Sam, we can’t trust her. We just don’t  _know_.” Den whispered, his voice low and rough. Sam turned away from his brother. If he looked at his brother, if he saw the raw heartbreak on Dean’s face that Sam could hear in his voice, Sam wouldn’t be mad anymore. And he wanted to be angry.

Angry at Dean for lying to him. For hiding the deal from him, for not being strong enough to not break the first seal, for so many sins. For drinking too much, for not being serious enough, for his never wavering, unending loyalty to their dad and the hunting life. Angry with Anna for keeping so many secrets. For never telling them her plans, for making them grieve her for so damn long, for never trusting them the way they trusted her.

Sam’s anger had always been his weakness. Angry, he was more ruthless than Dean and colder than his father.

But with the literal apocalypse coming down on them, Sam’s anger was also in the way. His anger had always blinded him to reality. He forced himself to swallow his pride and turned to face his brother.

Dean’s cheeks were dry, but his eyes were suspiciously shiny. Sam softened, his anger retreating back into the smoldering coals that seemed to perpetually live in his chest.

“Dean, she’s not a demon. She saved us, and she protected you as best she could. We can trust her.”

“But what if we can’t?” Dean’s voice cracked halfway through the sentence. Sam knew that Dean had been more than halfway in love with Anna before her fall into hell three years ago. After his brother had come back from hell, he had charged through his second chance at life with the fury of both their father and Sam combined. His brother had been on the warpath since his return to the surface, but over the last few months Dean’s fury had begun to fade as he moved into the next stages of grief.

For Anna to have been so suddenly thrown back into their lives was nothing more than cruel, but she was here now and she needs their help. And they owed her.

“We can. She’s a little broken right now, but she’s got us. She’ll get better.” Sam assured him.

“And if she doesn’t?” Dean pleaded with him, his brows furrowed deeply. Sam knew Dean was fishing for something specific.

"Then we'll handle that. Doesn't mean we can't trust her." 

“What if… What if we have to-”

“No!” Sam cut his brother off, suddenly realizing what Dean was so afraid of.

“Sammy, what if we  _have to_?”

“We won’t. We won’t put her down. Never.” Sam growled firmly. Dean relaxed slightly, even though he didn’t look entirely convinced. Sam didn’t like the uncertainty in his older brother’s eyes. It was unnerving to be the one reassuring Dean, to be the one protecting  _Dean_  from  _his_  fears. Even when they were trying to keep Dean from going to hell it hadn't felt like this. Trying to undo the deal, or watching his brother’s back on hunts had always felt natural. 

Protecting Dean from something like this, promising him that this girl he liked,  _loved_ , was safe, was weird.

A scream pierced the night. Dean and Sam both turned and charged into the motel room towards Anna.

Dean slammed a foot into the door, the wood splintering. Anna stood in the far corner of the room, her eyes wide as she stared into empty air, one arm dripping with blood. There was a low growl and vicious snarling, the sounds making  the hair on the back of his neck stand up. When they tried to charge into the room to help her, they collided with an invisible barrier.  The familiar snarls coming from the room sent chills crawling down Sam’s spine.

The last time they heard that sound, both Ellen and Jo had died.

“Anna! Get out of there!” Dean roared desperately. Sam threw himself against the barrier again. He had no idea what was keeping them out, but Anna wasn’t fully lucid and Sam had given her some pretty heavy medication to keep her calm. She was a sitting duck in there.

“Anna!”

“Anna!” They were both screaming her name but she never even looked up. Something invisible sent her flying, slamming her against the back wall of the room. The impact broke the cheap art that had been hanging in the room, tearing open a large hole in the center of the canvas. Deep gouges appeared in the furniture and the walls, shredding wallpaper and sending plaster flying everywhere.

Anna’s eyes flicked all over the room. Sam had a sneaking suspicion that she could see the hound. When the next attack came, she ducked and rolled under the invisible blow.

“Hey! Come after me you ugly bitch!” Dean was insulting the hound, trying to lure it from the room. Anything to get it away from the most vulnerable member of their trio.

Sam saw what happened next almost a fraction of a second before it happened. She tensed slightly, then took to steps forward and launched herself into a forward tuck through the air. Twisting around, she landed in between the door and the hound. But instead of making a break for it, Anna promptly leapt forward and  _tackled the hellhound._  She let out a wordless cry and began to viciously attack the invisible dog. Her hands pummeled the air, while her legs seemed to be locked around nothing, leaving her hovering at least four feet off the ground. The hellhound had to be huge; much bigger than any of the hounds they’d encountered before.

Sam watched in an almost horrified fascination as Anna sank her teeth into something; one hand clawing at the hellhound, her fingernails coming up bloody. The nearly black blood of the supernatural monster dripping down to the floor, puddles of it appearing out of thin air. She spat out a mouthful of blood before getting unceremoniously thrown from the back of the hellhound. 

Dean seized her arm, which had landed outside of the room and dragged out of the room, away from the fight. Anna snarled and spat, but Sam could see a large welt on her forehead from where it had slammed into the door. She squirmed towards the door, nothing but animalistic fury in her eyes.

“Come on! Let’s go!” Dean snapped as he lifted Anna into his arms. Sam didn’t need to be told twice, sprinting for the Impala. They could hear growling behind them, and Sam went straight for the trunk and their arsenal.

“Sword!” Sam obeyed the order without question, grabbing the weird sword from the salt trap and slashing behind him. There was a terrifying howl, but after a second there was nothing but silence and the faint smell of sulfur. Anna was on the ground, her hand wrapped around her arm, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. Dean stood next to her, gun cocked and a hard expression on his face.

“What was that?” Dean asked slowly, turning to Anna. The hunter said nothing. Anna seemed to be done talking after her one shouted order. Task complete, Anna slumped back into her silent stupor. Sam carefully laid the sword back inside the salt circle. He remembered Bobby once mentioning something about her sword being special. But special enough to kill hellhounds?

Sam wasn’t sure, but he sure as hell planned on finding out. 

**Author's Note:**

> Supernatural, Percy Jackson and their worlds belong to their creators; I only own my own words!
> 
> I love comments!


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